


Loved Properly

by viserys



Category: Rocketman (2019)
Genre: Coming Out, Family Issues, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Mommy Issues, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slurs, Step-parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-20 01:13:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20666855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viserys/pseuds/viserys
Summary: When Elton hangs up the phone, his mother and step-father react to the news.





	Loved Properly

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking a lot about what happened in Elton's family home just after he outed himself to his mother via phone. This is what I came up with.
> 
> This is based purely on the events from Rocketman and is my interpretation of characters, not real people.

He lets for couple of minutes to pass, observing Sheila very carefully from the corner of his eye. She doesn't move, her head high, her eyes unblinkingly staring at the tv screen.  
Finally he decides that waiting with questions any second longer will make it just too akward to ask them at all, so he tries to use his most carefree tone when he clears his throat and asks:

  
\- So... what's the news? Who was that?

  
Her eyes don't move from the screen but she replies with tired-sounding voice:

  
\- It was just Reggie.

She always calls him Reggie at home - and to his own face too - and scoffs at Fred when he tries to use his new name. Only times when Sheila calls him Elton is when she's talking about him to someone else:  
_Oh, so you like the necklace? Thank you, sweetheart, Elton bought it for me in Paris, you see._  
_Of course you are worried when your children leave home, that's normal. They grow up so fast, don't they? I'm always so scared whenever Elton leaves for a tour to all those places; America is one thing but __God, can you imagine how I feel when he's in A u s t r a l i a ?_  
Other than that he's always Reggie.  
_I didn't give birth to E l t o n_.

\- Oh, really? And how's the boy doing?

  
She scoffs a little at the word _boy_ too, putting back an earring she's taken out to pick up the phone call - a smooth, elegant gesture of lily-white hand. Fred catches himself marveling, yet again, about how  
beautiful his wife is; how refined and almost regal.

  
\- Good, I believe. He's on his way to the show. - she sighs. - Just wanted to stop and make sure he doesn't go a single day without trying to humiliate me.

  
She tries to remain composed, of course, but Fred has known Sheila for years and he can hear some dangerously bitter undertones in her voice. Also, despite of the fact she likes to joke she didn't marry him  
for his intellect, he doesn't consider himself stupid - and definitely not deaf. He's heard _something_ happened there, but knows better than to prompt Sheila a bit more. It's just a matter of seconds.  
Finally she whispers - her voice is tiny now, but somehow a little harsher around the edges:

  
\- It was never easy with him. _Never_. Since the day I got pregnant, trouble's all he was.

  
She starts toying absent-mindly with her necklace, her eyes still glued to the TV screen. Liberace's smile is blindingly white.

  
\- You should've seen me back then. I was as fat as a cow, and I just couldn't stop myself from eating. He's already been a glutton, even before he was born.

Fred's brow furrows. He's thinking hard now. As far as he knows pregnancy always tends to do this kind of thing to women, but now, the way Sheila says it, he's no longer so sure.

  
\- Don't say that, honey, I'm sure you looked beautiful. - he says with a soft smile. That should be safe. Sheila tends to get so insecure about her looks, he can deal with that. He doesn't understand her in that  
matter, though. She's easily the most gorgeous woman he's ever seen, and tries to remind her of that as often as possible - not that it always works, but he gave up years ago on understanding why sometimes  
she accepts his compliments, and sometimes just gets even more frustrated.  
This seems to be the latter situation.

  
\- No, I didn't. I used to have a flawless figure and look at me now? I look like an old dame because of him.

  
\- You're not a...

  
\- For God's sake, shut up, Fred. - she hisses. There seems to be a little victory for Fred here, though, since she finally looks him in the eye, her own eyes sparkling with annoyance.- Do you really think you have  
to lie to me? I'm not a child. Besides - she takes a breath and tries to calm herself down - that was just a start. You remember how difficult he was when he was young, don't you?

  
Fred doesn't really remember that, but decides against voicing this opinion.  
He vaguely recalls first couple of weeks after moving in with Sheila and her family - some hostile stares over the dinner table, some cases of slamming the doors, some bitter remarks here and there. But that  
wasn't anything he wouldn't expect from a teenage boy - and especially from a teenage boy whose mum just got herself a new boyfriend. Besides it was over quickly - the kid was shy, but not too hard to win  
over (Fred's record collection not without a significance in the process). Actually, from Fred's limited experience with teenagers, Elton could've been one of the nicest and best behaved, but maybe he didn't  
see enough. Obviously it is mother who knows her child the best, so Sheila surely experienced completely different troubles with the boy.

  
\- Even more so, it was too late for him when you moved in. - his wife continues, her voice sounding heavier and heavier with every word. There are tears somewhere in that tone, and Fred instinctively checks  
his pocket for a handkerchief, even though Sheila's eyes are still quite dry. - His father was useless, and he had only me, and it's not good for a boy to be raised just by his mother. I was way too gentle with him.  
I've spoiled him rotten and he grew up to be _soft_. And people are going to blame me - no matter how hard I tried, no matter how alone and difficult it was, they are going to blame m e.

  
Her eyes are on his, like it was some sort of challenge.  
Fred knows he must be especially careful now.  
He kind of wants to point out that she wasn't entirely alone, since Ivy was always there to share chores both at home and with raising the kid. But that wouldn't do.  
For a moment he considers re-assuring her how wonderful mother she was, and how good job she did - after all not all mothers can brag that their child growing up to be an international superstar, just about  
to perform after Liberace himself. He's afraid, however, that could go about as well as trying to compliment Sheila on her looks a while ago, so when he opens his mouth it's only to ask a question, as softly as  
possible:

  
\- Blame you for what?

  
There's rush of colour on her high cheekbones, her lovely face twisting in a grimace of anger.

  
\- For him being a _poofter_, that's what for. - she hisses, words coming out of her mouth like she was spitting out something particularly disgusting. - Because I wasn't able to raise him to be a man. _That's_ what he decided to tell me, can you believe it? That's he's a...  
And here are the tears. Fred surrounds her back with his arm and holds her close to his chest, before after a while her sobs slowly die out and the moment comes to pass the handkerchief into her delicate,  
slightly trembling hands.  
She dabs with it gently around her eyes, careful not to ruin what's left of her makeup.

  
\- Darling, but... - he begins carefully - My, that was a strange timing of him, but didn't you say you wished he wasn't pretending so hard?

  
Sheila gives him a strict stare before proceeding to clean her face, sniffling a little.

  
\- He wasn't even pretending _that_ hard. Not ever. You could've guessed since he was a boy, but... I just hoped I was wrong. I hoped he is n o r m a l, at least in that way.

  
\- Well... - He used to think Sheila is just imagining things. Elton always was a bit extravagant, but personally Fred believed that simply came with being an artist. Yeah, the boy was always shy around girls, but  
now he seemed to be wildly popular with ladies - even their neighbour admitted once her teenage daughter collects Elton's pictures and brags at school how he used to babysit her when she was an infant  
(which isn't true, but Fred finds that lie harmless and, frankly, quite adorable). Turns out the mother really knows best. - I guess that _is_ sort of normal among his crowd. You know, all those musicians and  
celebrities...

  
He nods his head in the direction of the telly and Sheila briefly follows his gaze to see Liberace apparently just cracking some joke between musical numbers.

  
\- Him? Don't be ridiculous. - she scoffs, shaking her head as to clear it. - Besides do you even know what that means? He's going to get himself into trouble and drag us just after him. God, just imagining this  
kind of filth makes me sick. It's not like he's ever going to get married and have children... Although that may be for the better, seeing he could take after his father... But he's going to end up used, old, and  
alone. If he lives long enough to be old, that is; it's not like his lot is known for the safest lifestyle, right? All the parties, drugs, shagging complete strangers in some dirty slums... No one will ever love him,  
no one will ever respect him, and _I'm_ going to be the joke.

  
He wonders where his well-mannered, delicate wife knows all that stuff from, but he doesn't ask the question. He's not even sure how to comment on that.  
Fred cannot imagine this kind of activities without slight shudder, so he partially understands her disgust. He also understands she's worried about her son's future and safety; that is completely natural. But  
what he fails to understand is why people care so much about what other people do with their private body parts in their bedrooms. It's not like he could ever imagine himself being like that, just thinking  
about it feels uncomfortable, but he guesses there's a little difference between human beings when it comes to falling in love. He just assumes it works in a similar way - you look at someone and think they are  
the most gorgeous creature in existence, and that can never feel dirty or inappropriate even if that person happens to be the same sex as you. Not a big deal at all.  
Maybe famous people do it differently. Maybe he's just being naive.  
But he also can't stop thinking about that boy he once was cheering for from the first row of seats during the school recital. Ivy was sick that day and couldn't come; he doesn't remember now why Sheila wasn't there.  
He remembers himself shouting _You showed them, son!_ in the direction of the stage, all excited and proud. He remembers how this last word echoed, refusing to drown in the thunder of ovation around him.  
He remembers that immediately it has left his mouth it felt _different_ \- all of the sudden it felt true, no longer just a petname he'd use for any other kid. And he remembers that the boy must've felt that too, looking up at him with those serious, wary eyes, before breaking into the tiniest smile, blushing like a girl. What Fred felt in this moment was love, flooding him so easily just like that, and he can't help feeling it even now, with all the nasty rumours confirmed, with Sheila's eyes red and puffy fixed on his.

  
\- Hey, maybe it won't be that bad. Maybe he'll have a change of heart. - he tries with his more cheerful tone, reaching for his cup of tea. - I knew this guy from work, Jimmy his name was, yeah? We thought that he's, you know...

  
\- Shush, now, I can't hear the tv. - she interrupts suddenly, turning her head in the direction of the screen again. Her voice is quiet but her words couldn't be more firm if she shouted them. Her fingers tug at the handkerchief placed in her lap; face slowly getting back to the same smooth surface devoid of strong emotions. The conversation is over.

  
It takes some time, but when the booming voice in the telly finally announces _Elton John, _the audience erupts into ovation uncomparable to the one from all those years back. It must be defeaning  
out there, and Fred wonders if such a small three-letter word could survive in all this noise.  
The man he once knew simply as Reggie runs - no, hops - onto the stage. He looks good now, all bright smiles and self-confidence, radiating pure energy under the spotlight, crowd following his every move almost religiously.  
He can hear Sheila sighing next to him.  
Fred can't suppress the smile on his face, feeling so proud it's almost painful for a while. That feels a little bit like betrayal - he's almost sure a loyal husband would be more outraged on behalf of his wife in the moment like that - but just know he's first and foremost a father, and he would love to drown in that feeling.


End file.
